Cinderella
by twi1ight2019
Summary: Bella is the servant. Edward is the prince. Her father just died, and is forced to wait on her stepsister Rosalie. They have two different lives, but when sparks fly at a ball, can they make their two lives one? Can Bella get her 'happily ever after'
1. Evil Stepsisters

**I don't own Twilight **

**I really hope you like it, though … and REVIEW!! Seriously.**

Chapter One

Evil Stepsisters

_My feet hit the ground heavily with each step as I ran to my name. _

"_Isabella! Isabella!!" I ran as hard as I could across the estate to the road that my father had recently departed to on his way to the city for business. I wasn't allowed to come since Cynthia came, because I had "playmates" at home, as if Rose and Sara cared about me._

"_I'm running! Coming!" My hair fell to my waist as it became undone and a crowd came into view, and I saw my father's horse on the ground. _

_Oh no. _

_As I got closer I saw a frown on Rosalie's face as she mumbled, _

"_My dress has mud now, Mommy."_

"_We'll get you a new dress, sweetie," mumbled Cynthia into her bonnet as she pretended to cry. _

_I planted my feet firmly on the ground underneath all of the trees as the somber crowd melted away to reveal a man on the ground with both legs and one arm twisted the wrong way. _

_The man was my father. _

"_I'll need a new dress!" cried Rose. "I'll need new dress now that the stuffy old man is dead, Mommy."_

I sighed and moved on, like anyone really cared what I thought about her dress. Like anyone really cared what _I_ thought about things. No one cares about me.

"So," said my stepmother, Cynthia. "Do you like her dress, Rose? Yours is so _you_ ... I wish I could see the prince's face when he sees you!" I scrubbed back and forth across the wooden floor as their irritating and high voices droned on and on.

"I know," said Rosalie. "It's my chance to show _him_!" She giggled at the thought as she turned to look at Sara, flaunting her blonde curls as she whipped around.

"What do you mean? The prince will fall for _me_," Sara reassured herself and straightened her beautiful brown locks out on the back of the dress she was showing off.

She shook the letter in her hand. "I was invited first, anyway. He obviously loves me more," Sara said as Rosalie laughed at her attempts.

"Don't be stupid," said Rose, and I held back a laugh at the thought that that was possible, "The prince loves _me_. I'm the oldest." Their shallow chatter faded out as the argued on which the prince would fall for first.

"Isabella!" cried Cynthia; like she had the day my father had died on the road. She was wearing her Sunday dress that she always said was a beautiful shade of "sea foam" like she'd seen the sea. It was the dress she wore with company.

"Hmm?" I answered, intent on scrubbing the floors until they shined underneath me. "Yes?"

"Is the floor ... clean?"

"It's mostly clean," I said, as I continued to scrub.

"Learn proper English, girl! Madeline wants you outside when you're done," she chirped, then added, "Which one?" She was trying to get my away before the company saw me scrubbing the floors and cleaning the fire.

She pointed to a red dress and a blue dress that I recognized instantly before muttering, "Those are mine, ma'am." It was just another punch in the gut.

"Money's tight." She shook her head in shame. "So, blue, right? I'll get it fixed up with gold trim, Sara. Anyway, Isabella, I need a lively fire when Madam Zmetrovich comes, she's practically off the boat from France and she's stopping here before the castle." She pauses, then adds,

"We should be greatly honored, girl."

"_Cinderella,"_ taunted Rosalie. "You're playing with fire."

I lined up the sticks and stuck my tongue out as the babbled on about Mademoiselle Zmetrovich and tinkered about where to put their gold trim along the edges.

Rose, with one quick motion, tossed the invite into the fire as Sara, with her good reflexes, tossed the water in. The girls laughed and Cynthia didn't notice.

I saw it fall over me in the air, the red royal seal abruptly stop, and the tangible feelings of Sara and Rose.

She may have great reflexes, but terrible aim.

The invite landed on my head, slightly burned and sopping wet. "Crap," said Sara. "I wanted to save the invite to the day I fell in love with Prince Edward." Shallow. "His eyes...."

"Hah! None he matter—its Cinderella standard, so Cinderella can have it!"

**I hope you liked it!! Please review! I'd like at least five before I continue!!**


	2. Work

**I don't own Twilight **

**I really hope you like it, though … and REVIEW!! Seriously. I need reviews to give me the power to CONTINUE!!**

Chapter Two

Work

I picked up each bead that had been broken this morning when she threw her bracelet against the wall, screaming, "This bracelet?" her face was taut and her eyes aglow. "No way. I'm not going to the ball wearing this bracelet!"

"What do—I mean, of course," stammered Cynthia, looking frightened. I sensed a small rip in her pastel blue gown that needed to be washed. "I'll get Bella to clean it up—hurry along." So I'd come and cleaned up the mess my lady had made, only to go outside later.

Now the stepsisters were off getting their fortunes told by someone called Alice—Rose had told me she was "talented in the art of the future," which I wasn't so sure about. When she arrived she just looked tired with black circles under her eyes and far too much black nail polish, which Sara would love.

Outside it was raining, and I hadn't bought new rain boots for years. I yellow raincoat leaked as I tromped in the muddy garden to find the tube of lip-gloss Sara had dropped into the garden.

"Bella!" shouted someone from inside the house, probably Cynthia, since both of my mistresses called me "Cinderella" or "Cindy" or "Cinder-girl".

"Coming, Miss!" I shouted, running along the side of the house to the front door. My jeans were soaked to the bone when I finally walked into our parlor, with the TV blaring and the girl who told fortunes texting with her nails about to break.

"MOMMY!" shouted Rosalie. "Oh, Cindy, you're here just in time."

Cynthia came running down the stairs, her hair in curlers. She was still wearing her bathrobe and had syrup around her mouth when she replied,

"What the hell is it this time, Rose?" she was obviously sick of Rosalie pulling stunts.

"I don't want to wear the red dress to the party!" she shouted.

"Ball," said Cynthia. "Here, we call it a ball, girls." She sat down on a couch facing the television.

"Well, I still don't want to wear the red dress to the _ball_," she replied in a high-pitched voice.

"Oh?" said Madeline, the only other girl who worked for them. I hadn't noticed her sitting in the kitchen.

The kitchen was state of the art because of Madeline's cooking skills. I'd heard from Cynthia talking to her she was preparing Surf and Turf for tonight.

"No!" shouted Rosalie. "I want to wear my new miniskirt that K—" she began, but her mother rolled her eyes and she stopped.

"Daughter," said Cynthia, her face becoming taut. "You are my daughter, not some foolish slut. You will marry the prince—for it is my destiny that I was never allowed to follow."

"What do you mean?" I said, awestruck. "You wanted to marry the prince? But you married my father!"

"Ella, do you not see the house we live in?"

"Why, of course."

"Do you not see the dresses your stepsisters where, the expensive fortuneteller who visits so often?"

"Definitely."

"Has it taken you this long to realize that I only married your father for the money, Cinder-Bella? Has it taken you this long to realize that I don't care what happens to you?"

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